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<\/a><\/p>\nI was a virgin and wanted to at least\u00a0find out if I was cut out to be the hoe I was singing about with Cash Money. I wanted to get to an N’Sync concert and marry Silk the Shocker. I had shit to do and the world coming to an end would disrupt my plans. I always wanted to be a Fly Girl but In Living Color<\/em> got canceled and now I had my eyes set on becoming a future video girl and a news reporter. I practiced\u00a0throwing that ass in a circle all year long and the rapture was going to end my life before it could it start. (God, I don’t know how I made it through high school as a virgin with this mentality.)<\/p>\n When the remaining seconds of 1999 hit, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Then came midnight..and nothing. I opened my eyes and everything was the same. Nothing had changed. I was still 11-years-old with an entire life ahead of me. All that worrying\u00a0for nothing.\u00a0 There was still time to be a ho(e).<\/p>\n Y2K was supposed to blow us all to smithereens but that was just another manmade distraction. And here we are, weeks away\u00a0from 2020 and I’m\u00a0feeling the same. I’m not really interested in being a profitable ho(e) as I was at age 11, but now at 31, I am equally worried as to whether I’m making the most of the time that I’ve been given.<\/p>\n My life goals have always seemed miles away. For the\u00a0first time, I’m one email away\u00a0from changing my own life. Everything I want is on the other side of fear.<\/p>\n On Monday, I went back to my alma mater to speak on a panel about media entrepreneurship. I almost declined the invite because work had been slow lately and I was\u00a0feeling real Tommy-ish.<\/p>\n Nah, Tommy Egan from Power<\/em>. I won’t claim being jobless or speak from a place of lack, but just like Tommy I’m doing what’s best\u00a0for me, and the people in my life, but somehow shit just keeps getting out of hand. Three weeks before the event, I didn’t have any jobs lined up and a\u00a0few days prior, I’d locked down\u00a0four gigs that will keep me afloat\u00a0until\u00a0February which would give me more time to write and not have to\u00a0focus on\u00a0finding work. Look at God.<\/p>\n We had a great panel and I was transparent with the audience about my struggles with anxiety and depression and how I was still “figuring things out” after\u00a0four years of\u00a0freelancing\u00a0full-time. At the end, I had time to chat with one of two of my most valued instructors\u00a0from the Mass Communication Department.<\/p>\n Mr. Nortz and I caught up about changes in the department and I shared with him a\u00a0few things that I’m working on. He then reminded me of a time in my life that I’d like to\u00a0forget, but also a period that continues to show up as a recurring theme in my life.<\/p>\n This photo represents my\u00a0first legal drink. I’d only had alcohol once during senior week in Myrtle Beach. I was 18 years old and got drunk on Smirnoff’s and quick realized that the alcohol life wasn’t\u00a0for me. But one bad break up and making a decision to party every weekend\u00a0for an entire semester, I\u00a0found cranberry and vodka to be a great coping mechanism at age 21.<\/p>\n Although I’d waited until junior year to start partying, my GPA was solid. I had a 3.4 and was awarded a scholarship\u00a0for my work as a young journalist and was inducted into an honor society.<\/p>\n That semester, I realized that I could graduate early and I’d\u00a0finished all of the core broadcasting classes in the department. To me, I saw no need to hang out in the department like I had been doing. I literally got to college and planned out my\u00a0four years in a matter of an hour.(Y’all, I knew all the classes I wanted to take and which professors I wanted. Auntie was\u00a0focused.)\u00a0 After 3 years of late-night video editing, crying over math quizzes, and completing two unrequired internships, college was coming to an end. I’d\u00a0finally reached my destination, but my parents and I agreed that I wasn’t mature enough to enter the workforce and I should stay for senior year and spread out any remaining credits that I needed. I now recognize the privilege of having prepaid education.<\/p>\n Above all, I worked hard and had my eyes set to win the “Outstanding Senior” award in the Mass Comm Department.<\/p>\n Mr. Nortz and Professor Howell started breathing down my neck at the start of senior year. Nortz was the\u00a0first to speak up. He realized I was veering off my course.<\/p>\n I had\u00a0forgotten about a particular conversation we had in 2009 but here we are in 2019 and it was another divine intervention that I needed.<\/p>\n I had no clue as to what he was about to tell me and then he said, “You really pissed me off.” And then I remembered. I was pouring all of my energy into my sorority. At the start of senior year, Nortz said, “Tyler, where do you need to be that is so important?” and I responded, “I have a chapter meeting with my sorority.” He tried to use reverse psychology on me and asked, “Do you need<\/strong> to be there? Are they paying you? Why are you so\u00a0focused on them?” And I responded, “You don’t understand,” to which he\u00a0followed up, “You’re damn right, I don’t understand.”<\/p>\n Ouch.<\/p>\n I remember at the time how much it hurt knowing that he was disappointed in me, but also, I was a young woman trying my best to\u00a0fit in. The Mass Comm department had been my place of refuge when I lost my grandmother\u00a0four months into college and the department was also where I hid\u00a0from a toxic relationship. Somehow, I thought I’d outgrew my peers and\u00a0focused my attention elsewhere.<\/p>\n A year passed by and the only time I went to Johnson Hall (home to the Mass Comm and theater departments) was to take three\u00a0final classes: media law, media ethics, and senior portfolio. I no longer spent my evenings editing videos in an edit bay or in the studio trying to\u00a0figure out how to be Oprah.<\/p>\n I was too busy chasing boys, applying\u00a0for jobs,\u00a0and living out my Hot Girl dreams.<\/p>\n My three-year relationship ended (that shit needed to), my best\u00a0friend since middle school and I had an ugly\u00a0fight (writing a movie about that), my mom thought I was a drunk (she was scared I was going to get drunk and rob a bank, sis, really?), and two weeks before graduation I was raped and said goodbye to my grandmother<\/a><\/strong>. I was hanging on by a thread, little did I know I was about to fall off a cliff.<\/p>\n My last shot at redemption would come at the annual Mass Comm dinner. The year prior I’d won many honors and I expected no different this time around. By the end of the ceremony, it was time to announce Outstanding Senior. Just like the remaining moments before Y2K, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. By the time I opened my eyes, here I was again sitting. Nothing had changed. This time the metaphorical ball drop wouldn’t be on my TV. It was me watching Eddie Scarry (yes..THAT Eddie Scarry<\/strong><\/a>) take the stage to accept the award that I wanted so desperately.<\/p>\n I was CRUSHED.<\/p>\n I was disgusted. Several of my classmates whispered to me throughout the evening, “I’m sorry” and “That award should’ve been yours.” And yes, it should’ve been. I spoke to my mentor who was on the voting committee and apparently there had been some discord as to why the honor didn’t go to me. Hell, I’d worked hard.<\/p>\n The\u00a0following day, I visited Professor Howell in his office to demand an explanation. I cried and expressed my\u00a0frustration and went down the list of things I’d done in the department that made me more deserving than Eddie. And his response still haunts me to this day. Professor Howell simply replied to my temper tantrum and said, “You checked out on us.” He went on to say that the award is\u00a0for an outstanding senior, not outstanding\u00a0freshman, sophomore, and junior. He\u00a0felt as if I traded my ambition for a chance to be popular among the Greeks.<\/p>\n It was done. Graduation was a\u00a0few days away and I couldn’t recover the lost time or my tarnished reputation. I’d let him down. I loved him so much and my own ego got in the way. I held a grudge against him for 9 years. It wasn’t until last year that I realized that he was right. I have a habit of self-sabotaging when I’m on a brink of a breakthrough. The Outstanding Senior award was the\u00a0first of many opportunities I’ve\u00a0fumbled over the last decade because I allowed my anxiety and distractions to knock me off my game. When I\u00a0feel myself “checking out,” I isolate myself\u00a0from loved ones and push away anyone that tries to get close to me. Because I am actively building my future, I can’t afford yet another period of self-pity and isolation.<\/p>\n I started writing this blog last summer and had every intention of sharing it with him and making amends. My grandmother shaped my storytelling and Professor Howell refined my presentation. Both of them are gone.<\/p>\n Professor Howell passed away in\u00a0February and I never got a chance to thank him\u00a0for teaching me one of my greatest life lessons.<\/p>\n<\/a><\/p>\nBut in the words of my lifelong\u00a0friend Amy, “I could rule the world if only I could get out of my own\u00a0fucking head.”<\/h2>\n
<\/a><\/p>\nYou thought I was going to say Tommy\u00a0from Martin<\/em>?<\/h2>\n
<\/a><\/p>\nMr. Nortz, me, and Professor Howell at the Mass Comm Dinner in 2009.<\/h2>\n
\n<\/a><\/p>\nSpring 2009. I was so drunk that the entire semester is a blur.<\/h2>\n
<\/a><\/p>\n<\/a><\/p>\n<\/a><\/p>\n<\/a><\/p>\nBy the time my\u00a0final semester rolled around, my life was on\u00a0fire.<\/h2>\n
<\/a><\/p>\nMe on the outside watching Eddie win the award.<\/h2>\n
<\/a><\/p>\nMe on the inside watching Eddie win the award.<\/h2>\n
<\/a><\/p>\nI rejected his answer and he looked at me like this:<\/h2>\n
<\/a><\/p>\n<\/a><\/p>\n